


i'm sleeping on you because i love you

by ArsenicInYourPudding



Category: Big Hero 6 (2014)
Genre: Depression, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, unedited freewrite madness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-23
Updated: 2014-12-23
Packaged: 2018-03-02 23:56:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2830676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArsenicInYourPudding/pseuds/ArsenicInYourPudding
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hiro has a hard day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i'm sleeping on you because i love you

Hiro hasn’t been out of bed in over 18 hours, and he no longer gives a shit.

  
He used to, somewhere around when he woke up again at 11am after passing out at 9pm on a Friday night, when he rolled over and grabbed his cell phone only to see fifteen unread texts from Honey Lemon from the night previous asking if he wanted to come over, she’d rented a copy of Pacific Rim in addition to her regular Friday night chick flick and she was down to watch either, or both if he wanted. The last message read, in uncharacteristically formal sentence structure, _Please call me soon, Hiro. I’m a little worried about you._

  
Hiro set his phone down on the hollow of his throat and fell to staring at the ceiling, which brings us to where he is now. Still staring at the ceiling.

  
He can hear the faint burble of noise two floors below him in the cafe, and it occurs to him that it’s Saturday and he should be down helping, filling to-go orders or manning the register so Cass can bus tables and fill coffee cups and chat with customers. But no matter how much he wants to or thinks he should, his whole body feels like someone pumped his veins full of lead and he can’t move beyond rolling over and sighing.

  
He’s not sure what’s come over him - this isn’t a usual thing, he’s just _exhausted_ and he doesn’t want to deal with anything because he had a panic attack in the lab on Tuesday and the rest of the week dragged on _forever_ and he feels pathetic in a very visceral, bone-deep kind of way, and he wishes he had some kind of schematic for himself, his bone structure and the wiring of his brain, so he could take himself apart and figure out where the problem was and fix it. This is getting ridiculous.

  
Slowly, he blinks at his computer screen, black and faintly reflective, with his image staring hollowly over at him from the lower corner. His hair’s a bird’s nest as usual, and he looks like someone punched him in the face. He sighs and rolls back over onto his back and pulls the blankets up over his head until it gets too warm and he can’t breathe, then he shuffles them back down under his chin, folding his arms over the top of his scalp.

  
His door opens, just a little, and he can just see Aunt Cass’s shadow in the hallway before she closes it again. She’s just checking on him, he figures, and he wishes he could be something other than the pathetic lump he is right now, and he feels horribly guilty about it because she didn’t sign on to deal with any of this - not when his parents died, and not when they lost Tadashi. He should be better by now, for her sake if not his own. He hates this.

  
The corner of the mattress jumps, and Hiro squints at the ceiling and lifts his head to an uncomfortable angle to investigate.

  
Mochi is making his way leisurely up the left side of Hiro’s body, his paws kneading into the piles of blankets as he strolls up to the side of Hiro’s ribcage and pauses, considering Hiro with what, on anything with vaguely human capabilities of expression, would have been a thoughtful frown. Hiro sits up a little on his elbows. “Mochi,” he said, his voice sleepy and faintly warning.

  
Mochi puts one paw on Hiro’s chest. “Mochi,” he says again, stronger this time. Mochi stares him down for a second before pressing a second paw into his ribcage.

  
“Mochi, I swear to god,” Hiro says, and he’s engaged in a Mexican standoff with his _cat_ , how stupid is his life? Mochi ignores him and plops _all_ of his not-insignificant weight on Hiro’s chest. Hiro grunts and flops back to the bed, resigned to his fate.

  
The cat pads around on Hiro’s chest for a minute before settling down just under Hiro’s chin, head pillowed on his paws resting over Hiro’s left clavicle. “You’re a pain in the ass,” Hiro tells him without inflection. Mochi gives a self-satisfied _mrow_ and lifts his head to nudge at the underside of Hiro’s chin with his nose.

  
Hiro sighs, but one hand flops up to the scruff of Mochi’s neck and scratches absently at the base of the cat’s skull. “Oh, is this what you wanted,” he asks dryly when Mochi starts purring, the vibrations echoing through his ribcage and into his heart and lungs. “You’re lucky you’re adorable and I’m lonely, or I’d kick you off the bed.”

  
Mochi’s tail flicks him in the cheek as it sweeps over to settle down across Hiro’s neck, and Hiro breathes a small, half-hearted laugh. “Alright, fine. Naptime. I can get behind that.”

  
  
  



End file.
